


All That We Are: Royai Drabbles

by TheTruthOfYourDespair



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Loss, Love, Romance, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 15,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9641111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTruthOfYourDespair/pseuds/TheTruthOfYourDespair
Summary: Riza is found dead in her apartment one cold night. What drove her down this path?





	1. Anything- part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza is found dead in her apartment one cold night. What drove her down this path?

The night was still. The air was laced with frost that would arrive the following morning, and the breeze that was drifting down from the North didn't help matters either. Roy Mustang strolled the streets of Central City, his coat buttoned up and his scarf wrapped securely around his neck, with the intention of visiting his dear Lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye, who didn't live too far from his current position.

He had the day off today, praying to end it on a good note, looking forward to spending some desired time with Riza, and knew she felt the same. Although neither of the two would show it, the feelings they had for one another were definitely there and had to remain in the dark. Public displays of affection certainly could not be tolerated, so the cover of night and the day off duty would lend a hand. 

Arriving at Riza's apartment block, Roy noticed that the lights of her flat were off and thought it strange as by now she would be home and settled on the sofa with a good book and the companionship of her dog, Black Hayate. Nevertheless, he trailed up the several flights of stairs until he came to her door, on which he knocked gently. 

Immediately, Hayate's miserable whimper sounded from behind the wood. He usually barked in a friendly, happy manner; he never whimpered unless something was wrong and after all this time, Roy knew he had to trust the dog. 

After waiting a long moment and getting no answer, he knocked again, but more heavily to ensure it was heard. 

Nothing. 

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, then trying again, yet only to get the same result. 

Frustrated and worried, Roy went to grab the doorknob to open the door by force. However, he didn't have to; it swung open with a haunted squeal giving way to darkness. He would've have smiled knowing that it had been purposely unlocked, but he knew that Riza would never be so careless as to leave her door and safety wide open. Something was seriously wrong. 

Upon entering the flat, there was an instant switch in the atmosphere. It had been almost warm and one typical of a loud, raucous Friday night. Although it was now heavy, eerie, empty. Roy noticed Hayate cowering at his feet, his ears flat against his head and his head hung low. 

Then Roy's glance turned away from the dog towards the kitchen. And there was Riza, unconscious and still. 

Her body lay on the cold wooden floor, fragile and delicate with flimsy limbs that could break at the smallest of movements. It was cold. So cold. Her fingers curled as if to have been clutching the last remains of life only to have them evaporate at the touch. The golden tinge of her hair had faded into a dull blonde that was no longer a representation of her personality. Her once bright pink lips were now turning blue, cold with the taste of death. Eyes tightly shut, and it was a good thing too as Roy couldn't bear to stare into them knowing that they calculated the murder. Her shirt was stained, blooming with crimson patches and splatters that seems to never dry up, and then there it was: the weapon- a .49 calibre that was involved in such chaos, except it was just the abettor.

"Lieutenant!" He exclaimed, rushing to her side and kneeling down. 

"Lieutenant?" The word came again as he searched for the slightest sign of life, and cradling Riza's body in his arms with utter frailty. He brushed away the strands of hair that fell over her face, revealing ghostly-white skin than embodied her demise. 

"Yell, scream, say something. Anything."

But nothing. No words escaped her lips, no whisper, no breath. Just nothing. 

"Anything," he muttered again, the determination and desperation was evident in his voice. Roy had never been this fraught with anguish and hoped to God that this wouldn't happen again.

He clutched the cold material of her shirt in one of his hands and then brought it up to Riza's face, caressing her soft, icy cheek. 

What on earth had drove her to suicide? What little or large thing made her take her own life out of hopelessness? Could it have been resolved? 

Roy's voice became inaudible as his lip trembled and his hands shook. "Please wake up. Please. I'd give anything for you to look up at me with those eyes that wordlessly scolded me for not completing paperwork. Those eyes that told me not to be foolish. Those eyes that screamed 'I love you' but not loud enough to be heard."

Listening to Hayate continuing to whimper and to his own racing heartbeat, Roy brought Riza's body closer to him in order to feel the fading of her warmth and to inhale the expensive perfume she only wore on special occasions. It smelt of roses and spices and heaven. It smelt of Riza. 

He restrained himself from sobbing, yet let one out anyhow. It didn't matter about code of conduct or dutiful composure, what mattered was the fact that the love and light of Roy's life had been stripped away from him in less than a second. 

"Godamn it," he gasped through gritted teeth, his face hovering over Riza's own. He then pressed his lips against her forehead, then her cheek, the her lips. Just one last time. "Please... Riza. Please."

By now, Roy had realised that no pleading was going to turn back time. No begging would bring her back to life. It all ended here in a mountain of disarray and burned out ashes that previously formed ignited love. 

"Anything," he whispered to her. "I would give anything for you to be alive in my arms, but not as superior and subordinate. Not ever..."


	2. Anything- part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza's untimely death spurs Roy's imagination. Maybe there is a way to bring her back...

The ambulance crew arrived half an hour after Roy had reluctantly detached himself from Riza's side. He heard pounding footsteps- a sign of some sort of hope, but of course there was nothing that could be done to save the woman that had been dead for a long time. That's what the doctors told him anyway. He knew, however, that they were right, yet wanted to scream at them and tell them that they were so damn wrong, that there had to be a way to save Riza. He held himself back, composed with professionalism and a hidden tear in his eye. 

He leaned over her face again, his lips brushing her forehead. There was a prolonged silence that rang in his ears, even though the ambulance crew were stood around chatting and exchanging glances of sympathy. Roy didn't want sympathy. He wanted his Lieutenant. 

\---

The late night was dark and incredibly lonely. Roy had lost track of time, but he didn't care. The hospital staff had made the suggestion (although it appeared more like a demand) that he should say his final goodbyes and depart. Agonisingly, he did so. He hand never left the deathly clutch of Riza's as he looked over the stretcher she was brought in on. 

Once he left, Roy dragged his heels through the deserted backstreets of Central, avoiding the more crowded areas and main roads, so he wasn't spotted with a somber expression and the threat of another tear or two forming in his stone-cold eyes. 

The doctors and experts had concluded that Riza's approximate time of death was two o'clock that afternoon. The weapon used was definitely the .49 calibre gun that lay in her hand; it was laced with the fingerprints of the victim. And that was all he was told before being ushered out of the hospital. 

It all felt rushed, like things may have taken a different turn if something else had happened another way. It was clumsy. Riza wouldn't have have pulled the fun on herself if something wasn't wrong. But what was it? 

The question preyed on Roy's mind as he entered his apartment and throwing the keys down on the kitchen table. It still lingered after he took off his coat and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. It was still there when he'd been sat on the floor, almost-empty bottle in hand, for hours. Only when he decided that he couldn't think of an answer to the devious question that Roy realised he'd been thinking and drinking long into the night. It was nearly dawn and even now he was clad in yesterday's clothes. 

Even lying dead surrounded by a pool of scarlet blood, Riza was still beautiful. Nothing could ever have taken that away. While her good looks were eternal in the few photographs Roy had of her, it just wouldn't be the same without him complimenting a new dress that she had bought. Or without seeing her smile at his stupid jokes. Or without them both sneaking knowing glances to one another from the opposite sides of the office. Her beauty had faded with her existence, even thought that was one of the things Roy had feared most. 

"I'd still give anything," he muttered. "Absolutely anything."

That moment was when the unthinkable popped into his head: Human Transmutation. 

Even the results of the Elric Brothers's attempt at performing it didn't waver his thoughts. It would be different for him, wouldn't it? There'd be more of a chance of success, wouldn't there?

Placing the whiskey bottle down onto the coffee table, Roy jumped up and dashed to the kitchen to find the right ingredients. 

He didn't have to think twice about the consequences of what he was about to do. He didn't want to. The single thought of the possibility of Riza- his precious, wonderful, gorgeous Riza- being brought back from the dead was too irresistible. Yet, his rash and rather idiotic decision could cost him his life. 

"If I lose a leg, so be it," he told himself, determination flickering in his eyes. "If I lose internal organs, so be it. But I refuse to lose my Lieutenant..."


	3. Anything- part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'What a fool. He knew what would happen to him, yet he carried out his sinful deeds anyway. Because of pure love and loyalty...'

The sun had began to rise by the time everything was set up for the Transmutation. The birds chirped their morning songs. The sky was golden and tainted blue, scattered with clouds. 

Roy had travelled to the hospital and snuck into the morgue while nobody was around. He found it strange that there weren't any staff on duty, but thought it was because it was too early in the morning for more than a couple of doctors and nurse to be around. 

Riza was still in her bloodstained shirt. Her eyes were still closed. Her hair still dark red from the dried blood that clung to it. Soon, he told himself, she'd be back with him. 

It took Roy longer than he anticipated to draw the transmutation circle. He was surprised when she picked Riza up in his arms that her body was light, as if her soul was the entire weight of her and it had evaporated. He gently placed her down in the middle on the circle, stroking the tips of her hair with affection. 

This had to work. 

\---

Riza awoke with a dull agony pulsating in the side of her head. She reached up to touch it only for her fingers to become dark red by dried blood. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, wondering what had happened. 

As she contemplated, she felt her bones ache and her breathing coming back to normal from the state of being difficult to fill her lungs with oxygen. It was only when Riza sat up did she remember. She recollected bringing the loaded gun to the side of her head with an unusually shaky hand. She recollected Hayate's whimpers of distress and trying to get him to stay quiet. She recollected her last thoughts before hearing a loud bang. 

Riza didn't quite piece together the fact that she had died and somehow (and rather miraculously) come back from the dead. There was only one way this could have been done-

She turned her head to the left where her weary brown eyes lay upon the sprawled body of a black haired man clad in a well-worn coat. 

Then it clicked. 

Her heart stopped beating for a split second. She realised that it was Roy. And that he had done the unforgivable. The ultimate taboo; the one thing alchemists weren't supposed to do. 

What a fool. He knew what would happen to him, yet he carried out his sinful deeds anyway. Because of pure love and loyalty. 

"Colonel..." She wheezed, wincing at the lingering pain in her head, dragging herself over to him. Briefly, he studied the chalk markings on the floor; they were definitely alchemy. And she had definitely been resurrected through Human Transmutation. But the question was... How? How was it possible to do so when she had seen the Elric brothers fail miserably, almost costing them their lives. Just... How?

"Colonel," Riza said again, grabbing the thick material of his coat and rolling him over so she could see his face. The colour had vanished from Roy's face, his skin cold. 

She touched him, and Roy awoke with a jolt. Riza barely saw the expression on his face before he threw his arms around her and buried his face into the crook of her neck. Without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around his torso and breathed in the disgusting smell of copper and departed death. 

"What did you do?" He whispered. "Why did you do it? I could have lost you for good."

"I could ask you the same thing, sir," she replied softly, still disorientated. 

"Enough with the pleasantries," Roy snapped, clutching the material of Riza's shirt between clenched fists as if he never wanted to let go. "But tell me one thing first... Why is it so dark?"

"Dark?" She echoed, even more confused, and beginning to feel queasy. 

"It was bright when I came in; the sun was rising. It's pitch black now."

"You're mistaken, sir," came the habitual reply. "It's as bright as anything."

Roy froze and Riza felt him tense. 

"I thought I got away with it," he said after a very long pause. "I thought I was lucky. Clearly not."

"I don't understand," she uttered, pulling away from him, letting his head hang and his gaze stray away. "Stop being so cryptic. What do you mean?"

Roy lifted his head up, so he was looking directly at Riza, but it was as if he wasn't there at all. 

His dark eyes had clouded over with the curse of the sight he had seen. The Truth had taken his vision away from him as a toll to successfully bring back Riza. Perhaps it felt generous in exchanging her life for his sight, something that was (in its eyes) worthless compared to an internal organ or his own life. 

"Your eyes..." She stammered, barely able to breath out of shock, holding up a chilly hand that hovered over his face as if her touch would restore every bring to normal. 

"My equivalent exchange," said Roy gloomily. "Don't fret, Riza. I told myself that I didn't care what I lost, as long as I got you in return. In the end, I got my wish."

"At the cost of your vision," Riza snapped, dropping her hand to her lap. "You reckless man. My life isn't worth it compared to yours. You know that. I'm just a subordinate-"

"You're a human!" He cried, taking her aback. "You have feelings. And thoughts. Don't you ever say that you're not of any value because I wouldn't have sacrificed anything if I didn't think you weren't."

Riza's mouth hung open for a moment as she watched Roy breath heavily as the aftermath of his shirt burst of frustration. 

"No, you're right," she admitted at last, feeling incredibly silly. "I'm the selfish one. I was stupid enough to want to kill myself and give up my life in order to fulfil my own egocentric desires. I'm sorry... Roy..."

He heard his name tinged with regret and self-loathing. It didn't sound nice, but it was Riza's voice. She was here with him. Finally. 

"I knew how you were going to feel," Riza continued. "I knew it would break your heart, but I did it anyway. My selfishness was only going to pass more pain onto you, so then you'd have to carry my burden like you already are."

Roy knew she was referring to the flame alchemy that had been passed from her own possession to his when they were just teenagers. How things have changed since then. How things have changed for the worse. 

"I'm always prepared to carry your burdens as long as you're by my side, Riza," he stated, twiddling his thumbs as a form of distraction. Part of him was glad that he couldn't see the expression on his companion's face because he couldn't bear it. 

"I know. And now it's my turn to carry yours."

"Hmm. I said to myself that I'd do anything to bring you back. I'm now willing to do anything to keep you with me."

Riza pulled Roy into a hug again, feeling his usual charm and wit stuck inside of his messed up mind behind those grey eyes. Over his shoulder she saw the clutter of leftover transmutation ingredients- lime, carbon, phosphorous, and so on- and also a patch of blood spilled below the table she lay on when she was dead. 

They sat together on the cold, hard floor, but didn't mind as long as they were together like they should always be. Riza sensed Roy's body jittering slightly and then the faint noise of sniffled. He was sobbing. 

Soon enough, though, she found herself in the same state: tears welling in her eyes and then feeling them run down her cheek in a hot trail. In the mix of depression and pain and anger, she was happy. Happy to be with her Colonel again. 

But what were the hospital staff going to make of this gigantic mess?


	4. Rain of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishval is ruthless and will leave no soldier behind in its wake of wrath and destruction...

Sparks showered from the clear blue sky. They were the light that the country needed even if they occurred in broad daylight. 

The smell of charred bodies and lingering smoke in the dusty air was extremely unpleasant for most of the soldiers and the few Ishvalan survivors, but for Roy Mustang it was just another day at the office. 

A seven year long war hadn't done him much good. Except now he knew how to hold himself and how to behave in a situation of fear. Others would call the dark glint in his eyes as cold and calculating. Roy would call it the look of disgust at the amount of bodies he had to burn in order to be called a 'hero'. 

He scoffed at his new inappropriate title that the young, naïve officers had given him, but carried on as if he hadn't heard them. 

Today was nearing the end of this living hell, Roy thought as he trundled through the sand and stone. He slipped on his ignition gloves, ignoring the patches of grey that clung to the material from previous misfires. They were misfires. He never missed a target. He only did so to spare a life or two, only for his actions to have been wasted in the process of other soldiers putting bullets in Ishvalan chests where hot sears and scars should've been. 

He stood and watched their sunned corpses fall to the ground in a heap, clenching his fists and holding his tongue so he didn't appear cowardly. Foolishly, he had a name to live up to. 

Despite the other soldier's confusion and surprise at these 'misfires', they still feared Roy and his alchemy. Their hearts pounded against their rib cages and they always swallowed in anxiety. He found his subordinate's alarm to be somewhat empowering, and had the confidence when he approached his targets with the words 'look out, the Flame Alchemist is coming!' ringing in his ears. He didn't mean to instil this kind of mental torture, but had grown so accustomed to it that it truly didn't matter what others thought of him or what he thought of them. Apart from one person. 

Riza Hawkeye sat in the shade of a half-crumbled building, reloading her rifle in its sheltered safety. Every so often, she had to wipe her brow with her sleeve to keep the beads of sweat from dripping into the weapon's mechanisms. The blistering heat and thick air had messes with her mind and she fought gallantly to keep her composure and to finish what she was sent here to do. 

Naturally, she was concerned for her own safety. But the safety of Roy Mustang was what mattered most. Each passing moment brought the horrible images to her mind of his body covered in blood, as he ceased to exist. Roy was what was keeping her going. 

In the corner of her eye, Riza noticed a flash of white topped with a face in the distance behind a pile of rocks: an Ishvalan rebel. He was holding a much tackier rifle that what Riza had, but they both knew that the damage it could cause would be equally catastrophic. 

Without a single twitch of hesitation, Riza held her gun up and pulled the trigger. The Ishvalan collapsed, the dull clank of his gun barely heard amongst the eerie breeze that carried the whispers of departed souls. She breathed a sigh of relief. 

In the next second, there was a loud bang that reverberated in her ear. She jumped to the side and looked back- a bullet had come flying past her ear and into the remaining wall of the house. It was inches from killing her. But where had it come from?

Riza went to cock her rifle, ready to fire at any given moment, yet she froze when a sudden tsunami of flames came bursting into the area. Gaping, burning jaws of fire bit into the sand and rubble, engulfing everything. And everyone. Riza's attacker was most certainly dead; she was glad that the conflagration didn't take her with them. 

"It's a good job I'm not dragging your body home along with everybody else's."

She glanced to her right with exhausted eyes. Roy was stood several metres away besides a boulder that was twice his height, his white coat draped over his shoulders as it flapped about in the wind, and his fingers still positioned in the way that he could cause more damage with one nudge of his middle finger against his thumb. 

"Thank you, Major," Riza said gratefully, although her tone of voice didn't reflect that. "I'll have to be more careful next time."

"Hopefully there won't be a next time," he said, pausing for brief moment and then approaching Riza, sitting down beside her. 

Roy was glad of the coolness of the shade. He was finally able to breathe properly without inhaling dust or hot air. It was like the cool days in Central City... Home. 

"There won't be, sir," she finished, putting her rifle on safety, sure there won't be any more attacks for a while. 

"Good. Because I don't want to be carrying your cadaver across the desert and having to return to a normal life knowing that you won't ever be by my side again," added Roy, averting his eyes to the infinite horizon. 

"I assure you that it won't happen. I came out here to serve my country and to protect you. I'm not dying that easily."

Riza could have sworn that a smile tugged on the corner of Roy's lips, but the dead look in his eyes stated otherwise. This wasn't the time for smiles and to be happy, although they both wished it was. What they wouldn't give to be back home in the comfort of a house with the luxury of furniture and hot meals. What they wouldn't give to be together in a different situation. 

"I believe that you won't," Roy replied, idly yanking the material of his glove that hung around his wrist. "You're a fighter, and fighters don't give up."

Riza was about to reply, yet was interrupted by the sudden presence of a general. His cap hung over his head, shadowing his face, but the severity of his expression could still be seen. His eyes crinkled- squinting- as he looked down on Roy and Riza, one hand resting upon a sabre that hung at his side. 

"Stand up, Flame Alchemist," the general demanded, eyes then visibly black with greed to kill and exterminate. "Back to work."

"Yes, sir," he answered, saluting his commanding officer and then (once the older man was satisfied) watching him walk off to another group of soldiers nearby, unaware that danger was everywhere. 

Roy heaved a sigh, brushing the hair out of his eyes and pulling his hood over his head. He stood, exhaled again and turned to Riza. 

"Be careful, Private," he warned calmly. "I'll be expecting to see you later."

"Of course, Major," she nodded. "You can count on it."

His gaze lingered upon her for longer than he anticipated. Quickly, he turned on his heels and walked forward into the further depths of the battlefield. 

Within minutes, more flames erupted like a volcanic massacre. Screams sounded and echoed through the empty valley. The power of the alchemic match that ignited all of this could quite easily be felt in the atmosphere. It has rained fire almost all day. And it wasn't going to stop now...


	5. Scandalous- part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One kiss wouldn't hurt...

It was dark. 

Nobody would see. 

Yet this was so public. 

So scandalous. 

"But it's not scandalous if nobody sees," he reminded her. 

Of course she gave in to his charm and to those dark, gleaming eyes that spoke a language of their own. 

"Okay. As long as you don't make a habit of it," she replied. 

There wasn't a need for an answer. 

Because she knew full well that he couldn't promise such a thing. 

Especially when he loved her so much. 

When she wanted this as much as he did. 

One kiss wouldn't hurt. 

And it didn't. 

It was passionate, sensual, addicting. 

What happened to fraternisation laws anyway?

Rules, after all, were made to be broken...


	6. Scandalous- part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep desires burn like fire...

It was electrifying. 

Like a burning fire that sizzled and crackled. 

Her finger tips tingled. Her mind raced with all sorts of thoughts.

Questions. 

Words. 

But she somehow couldn't piece it all together. 

His kisses were distracting her from all logical things. 

She didn't mind. 

If this happened more often, she didn't care about her brain getting fried on intimate intoxication. 

This was, in her opinion, how it should be. 

No secrets. 

No hiding 

Just them. 

He broke away breathlessly, staring down on her in adoration. 

"I thought it was just going to be one kiss," he said. "I was wrong."

"What's the point in wasting one when I can receive many?" She replied coyly. "And when I can give you many?"

"I thought you said not to make a habit of it."

His arms snaked around her waist. His hands flat against her back, pulling her closer. 

"You think too much," she laughed, then giving a shrug. "I suppose I could let this slide, though."

And with another touch of their lips, they were once again lost in a world of their own. 

It's funny how scandal leads to happiness. 

How deep desires are fighting to break free. 

How nothing can get in the way of love...


	7. Sleep No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie. Macbeth was my inspiration for this particular drabble. I was watching it earlier today and thought 'why not add Macbeth references into some Royai angst?'

The night brings quiet like nothing else. The silence is therapeutic, hypnotic. The calming blanket of the inky-black sky and its twinkling stars of light and hope that cover it. 

All this for some. But not for Riza Hawkeye. The mental strife attacked her dreams, turning them dark and evil. It was as if the devil himself had chosen her to beseech his powers of wrath and direst cruelty. Her skull was the only defence she had from the release of her inner demons. 

She will sleep no more. Sleepless nights follow this one. This one is just the beginning. Seven years of nights like this follow. And seven more after that. 

Her eyes grew weary, heavy with exhaustion and the weight of her sins. Bear-like, she fought the powers of her desire to close them and fall into the black. 

Riza also found herself thinking that she still had blood on her hands. Gleaming, scarlet liquid that oozed through her fingers and stained her delicate, pale skin. The Ishvalans she had brutally slaughtered under the command of the generals and the Führer still appeared as visions. They were ghosts that constantly haunted her times of peace. 

She still imagined a young Ishvalan boy, his red eyes ablaze with hatred for his Amestrian killer, his clothes ragged and spotted crimson. He was the bane of her nights. 

"An innocent child shouldn't have to die," Riza told herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. "An innocent child should not have to die..."

As she repeated the same words over and over in a whisper, there was a quiet knock on the door to her apartment. Though barely audible from where she was sat, it still startled her. She breathed in sharply and glanced towards the source of the sound. 

"Riza? It's me."

That voice. The one of a comforting and familiar tone that belonged to Roy Mustang. He very rarely called her by her first name, but he must have somehow known that it was more reassuring for her as she hated the stoic pretence they acted on at work. 

Riza exhaled in relief, feeling her muscles relax. She got to her feet and opened the door. 

Roy was stood there dressed in his best: his favourite black coat that had been speckled with raindrops, his matching coloured tie that hung loosely, a white shirt that appeared to have been ironed several times to get all the creases out, a simple waistcoat, and a cream coloured scarf that was draped around his neck. His face was always a welcome one in her times of distress. 

He didn't know whether a warm smile would be appropriate, but he gave Riza one anyway. 

"Good evening, Colonel," she greeted, stepping aside for him to enter the apartment. "This is unexpectedly pleasant."

"I thought I'd come and see how you were," Roy stated, taking off his coat and scarf. "Considering that you weren't quite yourself today at work."

"Oh," was all she said, closing the door with a 'click'.

"I hope you don't mind me staying for a while," he added, his tone suggesting it was more of a question. 

"Of course not."

At her confirmation, Roy hung his garments on the hooks behind the door. He smoothed down his waistcoat and looked at Riza with concerned eyes as her hand still lingered on the doorknob. 

"So... How are you?" He questioned, shoving his hands into his trousers pockets. 

Riza cleared her throat and blinked away her nasty thoughts. "Fine, sir. Thank you."

She brushed past him and into the kitchen, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her before filling the kettle up and putting it on to the stove. 

"You didn't seem fine," Roy persisted, advancing in her direction, but keeping his distance of couple of metres. 

Riza leaned against the kitchen counter. She knew that he could see through her like glass; there wasn't much point in lying to him. Not after he made all this effort to visit. 

"It's about Ishval."

Roy understood that she had issues with PTSD in the past concerning the Extermination Campaign, but hadn't realised that it was still affecting her so badly. 

"I'm ashamed to possess a heart so white," she elaborated. "Even after it was stained black and red by murder and blood."

"Your heart is still as gentle as it was when we first met."

"Only in light. In the night, it is as I described. The memories plague me- forgive me for being so selfish, sir. I'm sure you had a worse time than I did."

Riza turned her back on him, tending to the whistling kettle. She organised two mugs on the counter's surface, dropping tea bags inside of them and then pouring the boiling hot water. She watched the water fill to the top, it's translucent colour turning yellow, orange, and then merging into a red-brown hue. The first thing that came to mind was the fire that Roy had used to kill the State's enemies. She recollected it dancing in the crystal sky, a painting of power and fury. The fire that she kept secret on the skin of her back for so long. Despite her initial thoughts during the war, Riza couldn't have thought of anybody better, more loyal or more trustworthy, to pass on the secrets of flame alchemy to. 

She shook her head, banning the thoughts from rolling out further, and proceeding to stir the tea. 

"Not at all," Roy insisted. "I may be mentally scarred, I may have incredibly bad experiences, but nothing compares to the turmoil I see you suffering with."

Riza acknowledged his words, yet didn't answer. She made her way over to the fridge to grab the milk. Once poured into the tea, she placed it back in its spot in the fridge door, and returned to where she had been stood moments ago. 

She gazed at him still with tired eyes. "I am suffering, but the thing that spurs me during the day in knowing that both you and I made it out alive, sir. We were fortunate enough to have been spared only to return to normality, but this isn't normal to me. Hiding in the shade of the desert, poised to kill is what I was trained for. That's normal... But I don't want that. I never wanted that..."

"Then what do you want, Riza?" Roy asked softly, seeing the distressed glint in her eyes. 

"I want to sleep without constantly waking up," she answered, pressing her finger against one of the mugs, its burning heat coming into contact with her skin. It didn't hurt. In fact, it was a good distraction. "I want to turn up to work every day knowing that my past will no longer haunt me. I want..."

Riza trailed off, not knowing what else to say that didn't make her sound like she was whining or asking for too much. She picked up the mug that she had touched and handed it to Roy. 

He uttered his thanks, continuing to seek answers through her eyes. He knew there was something else that she wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Riza was methodical in her ways. He'd find out sometime. 

"What's done cannot be undone," said Roy, resting his free hand on top of Riza's arm. She was momentarily taken aback, looking up at him curiously. "Forget the past as best as you can, and seek the future. I'll be by your side."

"Through hell and back, right?" She muttered with a small smile. 

He nodded. "Through hell and back..."


	8. Ease My Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Roy turns up to Riza's apartment with blood on his hands, Riza knows trouble will ensue...

When night fell, Riza expected to sit by the radiator for its warmth with a cup of tea and good book, she knew it would be a quiet, rather uneventful night. But when Roy turned up on her doorstep, she immediately assumed that trouble had tagged along with him. 

And she couldn't have been more correct. 

Roy's hands were bound by blood, chains of scarlet wrapped around his wrist and the loose ends were tied around his fingers. The was a deep gash on his temple, red liquid dripping from it, smearing his pale skin. An ugly purple bruise was beginning to form and it certainly looked painful. The collar of his uniform jacket had been dyed a dark red colour- almost black- and it appeared as though he'd been showering in blood. 

"What on Earth-" Riza began, flabbergasted. 

"It's not as bad as it looks," he insisted, smiling sheepishly. 

"It's not as bad as it looks?" She repeated, grabbing hold of his hands. "Don't lie to me."

Roy's smile faded. He pursed his lips together, feeling the warm touch of Riza's hands against his own; his were too cold to be considered healthy. 

She gazed into his eyes, her brow furrowed disapprovingly. "You put the fear of God into me, Roy. You'll be the death of me one day."

"Apologies in advance."

Rolling her eyes, Riza took a firm grip of one hand and led him into the kitchen. She told him- no, that tone in her voice was more of a demand- to sit and stay put while she collected a cloth and a bowl of water to clean up the blood. 

When she left for the bathroom, Roy smirked to himself. He was incredibly lucky to have Riza around, even if she nannied him like a young boy's mother would do. He supposed it was her natural instinct to help others since she didn't quite have the same treatment as a child. Nevertheless, she was so kind and caring. 

She returned with a bowl and an old flannel, which she set down on the table. Riza pulled the cloth from the bowl, wringing any excess water from it, and then bringing it to the cut on Roy's head. She dabbed it gently, wiping away the dried blood. Even though it stung harshly, he tried not to flinch, yet failed. Amused, Riza smiled faintly. 

"You find my pain funny, Lieutenant?" He questioned in a mock-formal tone. 

"Quite, sir," she replied in an equal manner, cleansing the cloth and writing it out once more. "I never thought that a brave, strong man like you would yield to a tiny cut."

"Well, it's not that small and I-"

"I thought you said it wasn't as bad as it looked."

Roy sighed, unable to conceal the smile that followed. Riza certainly knew how to put him in his place; there was no winning with this woman. 

"You hurt me even more than the injuries I've sustained," he joked, idly fiddling with the hem of his shirt. The strands of hair that hung over his brow were damp and tickled his skin; Riza noticed and pushed them back with the cloth, so they stuck to his head and didn't get in the way. 

"No pain, no gain."

Roy had to stifle a laugh while she finished cleaning the wound. That awfully dry sense of humour Riza possessed was one of his favourite things about her, and that particular list was endless. 

"Give me your hand," she ordered. 

He obeyed, however silently questioning who was the commanding officer and who was the subordinate in the situation, even if they weren't in work. 

Riza held the back of Roy's hand, while she dragged the cloth along his palm, watching as the blood disappeared. 

"What happened to you anyway?" She asked eventually. Roy wondered when she would begin her interrogation. 

"I was on duty and a report of antisocial behaviour was given to me since nobody else suitable was around," he replied, still messing with his shirt with his free hand. "I went to investigate, and two men had got into a disagreement outside of a bar. I had no choice but to intervene and this was my reward."

"You'll have to be more careful in the future," warned Riza, moving on to clean Roy's other hand. "What happened then?"

"I apprehended them both. They're in custody now waiting for the effects of alcohol and several different substances to wear off."

"Good... But you didn't think of going straight home first?"

"No," he said simply. "You're a better nurse than I am."

"Oh, so I'm a soldier and a nurse now? No wonder I don't have any free time- I'm always caring for you."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," Roy uttered, cocking his eyebrow mischievously. 

"It is when you turn up on my doorstep so late at night covered in blood," Riza exclaimed, letting go of his hand and throwing the cloth into the pink-tinged water. "Now don't mess with that bruise you've got coming up or you'll regret it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Riza dipped her hand in the water and flicked it into Roy's face as quick as lightning. He screwed up his face in surprise, but laughed it off. 

"Hey! That's playing dirty."

They were behaving so childishly. It brought back memories of when they used to get up to their teenage capers during Roy's apprenticeship. When they were so young, so carefree. When the world was their oyster. 

Roy rose to his feet, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "Aren't you going to kiss my wound better and ease my suffering?"

Mirthfully, Riza's body slouched to one side as she gazed at him. "How old are you?"

"Not old enough to act maturely."

"I might have guessed."

A moment later- without hesitation- Riza stood on her tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss to the bruised area, Roy's hair brushing her nose. 

"Is that better?"

He smiled triumphantly, noticing that a blush had been added to her cheeks. "Much...Thank you, Riza."

"Hmm. Just don't go making a habit of this. I won't be cleaning up any more blood."

Roy pouted discreetly. 

She laughed, shaking her head. "If a kiss is what you want, Roy, then all you have to do is ask."

"Then would my queen do me the honour?" He asked cheekily, leaning toward her. 

"For you, my king, anytime..."


	9. Judgement Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power of flame alchemy has finally gone to Roy's head. Only Riza can set him on the right path again. But it's too late for that, something else must be done...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: extreme angst and implied major character death

What brought them to this?

Was it the fact that Roy had finally (and tragically) ventured too far into Hell, ravaged by his flame alchemy? Or was it the fact that Riza had followed him into Hell's depths and had to redeem them both from the clutches of the secrets she bestowed to him all those years ago? 

For Riza, all that lay between Roy's redemption was a darkened room and a pistol. 

He was at his desk, unaware of what was about to unfold. He thought she was just here for a discussion on how a set of documents were to be signed and that were due for tomorrow. How much more wrong could he have been. 

"Lieutenant," Roy addressed, his puzzlement concealed by shadows. "What's wrong?"

Riza wanted to answer with one simple word: everything. 

She was stood several feet from the door to the office, her delicately chiselled features defined by the streaming moonlight. Roy was surprised to find her here so late, especially after she was reassured that the paperwork would be complete. Of course, that wasn't why she was here. 

"Please stand, Colonel," she instructed, her words sharp as a blade. 

His brows furrowed. "Whatever for? I don't-"

"Please stand, Colonel," she repeated with a lot more force. 

Roy knew better than to argue with her when she had that tone of voice. Obviously something was on her mind that had to be confronted. 

Putting his ink pen down, he rose from his seat, smoothing back his hair anxiously. From a simple eye signal, Roy knew that Riza wanted him to step up to her. He obeyed and was towering over her within seconds. 

After a few silent seconds, Riza pulled the gun from the holster on her belt, putting its barrel parallel to his chest. 

Roy flinched. What was she doing? Had she gone mad? 

"What is the meaning of this, Lieutenant?" He demanded calmly. He clenched his fists, ignoring the bad vibes he was receiving. 

Rapidly, Roy's breathing turned erratic. His heart pounded against his rib cage and the feeling reverberated through the rest of his body. Riza continued to hold the gun to his chest, her finger millimetres away from the trigger. She watched the rise and fall of Roy's upper body, the material of his uniform jacket straining slightly with each breath. 

"You told me all those years ago when I first became your adjutant that I could shoot you if you strayed from the wrong path," she reminded him. "You've gone too far; you've become blood-thirsty, and every sinner must face their judgement."

"And is this Judgement Day for me?" He questioned. 

"Only if you falter. Endure my wrath first and foremost; I need to make sure you're still sane."

"Of course I'm still sane," Roy answered firmly. He saw the sceptical glint in Riza's eye and drew a breath. He had never seen pure rage like this before. In fact, it made him ice-cold with fear. 

"But what about you?" He added after a beat. "What's your judgement?"

"Don't make this about me," she snapped, digging the gun into his chest ever so slightly, telling Roy that she was being deadly serious. "This was never about me! It's about you and your actions!"

"Then when will it ever be about you, Riza?!"

She hesitated a moment, taken aback by his sudden burst of anger. She bit her lip frustratedly, causing it to bleed, the red metallic liquid seeping on to her tongue. Steady, she proceeded to finally place her finger on the trigger, an icy shiver crawling up her finger to her hand and arm. 

"It will be about me when the papers and radio broadcasters find out that I shot you," Riza replied darkly, looking Roy dead in the eye. "When they find out that I killed my commanding officer and the man whose love kept me levelheaded."

He stared back at her, fright washing over his face and turning his skin white. 

"You've gone rogue," she continued, feeling a strong dislike to the aura she was receiving form him. "Your protection is as fragile as a china vase. Your love is tasteless and toxic. Your mind is clouded by hatred and disease, which has guided you blindly down the wrong road. There's no turning back. It ends here."

"Is there really an end to a story?" Roy questioned, his eyes frowning with a glazed sadness. "I may be fragile. I may be toxic. But I'm not a villain, and I won't be dying in this story."

"You sound so sure," murmured Riza, tensing her hand around the gun. "But how do you feel about rewriting your story, so there's a cliché conclusion with a fallen villain?"

"Not so good," he admitted coolly. "But if you so wish to change it, then I'd be happy if you were the one to kill me. I wouldn't go any other way."

"Is this a confession, then?"

"No. I'll confess my sins to God and he'll send me to the devil, to Hell, where I'll be burned in its and my own flames for eternity. That is the price I'll pay. That is the fate I have accepted."

Riza twitched. Her eyes not quite blinking because if they did, they'd shed a tear of pity and this certainly wasn't the time for that. She understood that Roy knew of his consequences, but actually hearing those words from his own curse-ridden mouth

She watched Roy's own eyes twitch, their blackness giving way to emotions. He let a tear roll down his cheek and a heavy sigh out in the meantime. 

"It doesn't have to be this way," he said hoarsely. 

"You faltered," Riza answered bluntly. "You're too soft, Roy. Is that what power has done to you? Has it taken away the strength you once possessed and put it to use to your dark desires instead?"

"Soft," he spat, the word echoing back to her. "How dare you say such a thing? How dare you-"

He stopped abruptly when the click of the gun shattered the tense air. Riza had taken its safety off, knowing that she would indeed have to use her weapon. 

"See?" She said. "When the truth is told, you can't handle it. You used to take it as criticism; now you take it as a threat. You're definitely as insane as I initially thought, Roy."

He swallowed hard, then wiping away the damp trail that flowed down his cheek with the back of his hand. His rage vanished as Riza spoke, but a sudden terror of his imminent decease took over him like a vile spirit. Maybe that's what he was. A monster. A demon. The emissary of the devil. 

Typically, however, Roy couldn't help but admire Riza's fatal beauty that was evident under the moonlight. Her soft skin, her striking amber eyes, her silky golden hair. The woman who he loved and admired and feared all at the same time was stood before him as if she was an agent of the truth. He knew she would be the death of him, but not like this. 

"Riza," he began quietly, wanting to hold her hand, to caress her cheek, to kiss her fiercely. "I'd change for you. You know I would."

"It's too late for that," she snapped. "If you can't make amends for the people of Amestris and for the soldiers in its army- the people you said you'd lead one day- then how would you change for me?"

Roy gazed into her eyes, noticing an almost invisible glint of self-loathing for what she was doing. He knew that Riza wasn't going to back down, so this was indeed it. 

"I agree. I've let them down," he muttered, turning his gaze to her hands that the gun firmly to his chest. "And, worst of all, I've let you down. The one person who I cared for the most; the one person who cared for me the most. She's gone like ashes in the wind. Just like I will be in the pages of history."

"Are those your last words?" She asked. 

"Yes. There's nothing else to it. I've done what I could. I've led a life of many regrets, and this is the end of the road for me."

There was beat. Their gazes met. 

"I don't hate you for doing this," Roy added. "I hate myself for not listening to you sooner. In fact, you have the right to shoot me because I gave you that right. Your judgement, Riza, is better than that of both God and the devil's... Thank you."

His voice cracked within his final two words. His head lowered, his hair falling over his forehead and eyes. 

At that moment, Riza felt hollow. It was acutely harrowing, yet she couldn't turn back. This was the end of the line. This was where the madness ended. The death of the embodiment of flame alchemy. The death of a respected soldier. The death of a hero.

She closed her eyes, stifling a sob. 

And, at last, pulled the trigger...


	10. Under the Stars- part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy never thought that he'd act upon his naïve crush for Riza, but he's even more surprised when she accepts his offer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some fluffy, innocent Young!Royai because I'm an absolute sucker for them 

Under the Stars  
• • • • • • • • • • • • • 

Ever since Roy was fifteen and first met Riza Hawkeye- a secluded young girl with eyes like fire- he had a secret crush on her. Secret because he could barely even think about it himself as it would take over his mind like a disease and then that would block out all the extensive alchemy knowledge he was supposed to be learning. 

When he was studying in the library by candlelight, it was difficult not to look up the moment Riza entered the room. She would usually make her way over to a particular section of the library, pick out a book with careful consideration, and then leave without even casting a glance to her father's apprentice. When the door closed, Roy would let out an exasperated sigh, besotted by her boldly cut golden hair and beautiful complexion. 

Berthold Hawkeye, Roy's master and alchemical expert, warned him when he first arrived that should he try anything funny, he'd be kicked out immediately. He had struck fear into the young boy, yet that didn't stop him from trying to be subtle. 

However, his first move began with a handpicked bunch of white gardenias. And it didn't go too well. 

Riza had looked up from her book, her brow furrowed as she stared at him, puzzled. 

"What are they for?" She questioned. 

"Well, they're for you. I thought you might like something to cheer you up," he responded cheerfully. 

"But I'm not sad, Mr Mustang."

"I didn't mean it in that way. They're... Erm... To brighten things up."

Riza's expression remained unchanged. "I still don't understand."

Roy scratched the back of his head awkwardly, wishing he could disappear through the creaky, old floorboards. 

"But I guess I could take these as a compliment," she added after noticing that Roy wasn't likely to answer. 

"Compliment?" He echoed. 

"Hmm. Gardenias, in flower language, silently state the words 'you're lovely.'"

"T-They do?" 

Riza nodded, observing their white petals with a barely visible smile. 

"Erm... Well... That's not really what I was going for... Because I had no idea what they symbolised," Roy stammered, barely getting his words out. He hoped that his cheeks hadn't turned pink in embarrassment. "I just thought they looked pretty."

Riza chuckled softly. "That's okay, Mr Mustang. I love them. Thank you."

Roy smile sheepishly before pursing his lips together, walking away and making his way back up to the library where he would sit anxiously and agonisingly for the rest of the afternoon. 

Riza, though, couldn't help but be amused by his efforts. She knew what he was up to (of course she did) and admired him for trying. 

That foolish boy...

•••••••••••••••••••

A few weeks later, Roy finally found the courage to give Riza another token gesture. This time it was a florist-bought bunch of scarlet-red roses. She loved roses. She was always doodling them when she was bored and was always caring for the ones in the garden.

Speaking of which, Riza was sitting under the oak tree (yet again delving into another book) when he returned from town. Master Hawkeye was thankfully away for the day, but Roy realised too late that it was fairly difficult to conceal a conspicuous set of flowers. 

He approached, fingers twitching. He attempted to hide his nervousness, praying it didn't appear too forced. 

"Hey, Riza," he greeted, standing a metre or so from her. 

"Hello, Mr Mustang," she uttered in return. "What can I do for you?"

"You can take these off my hands."

Roy outstretched his arm, passing the roses to her. She was rather taken aback, completely baffled by his gift. 

"They're for you," he smiled brightly, smoothing back the dark mess that he called hair. 

"They're lovely," Riza replied, getting a waft of nostalgic sweetness. "But... Why?"

"Because you like roses," came the answer. "And I like you."

She blinked. 

"There. I finally said it," Roy sighed, relieved, although his heart pounded in his chest, the blood pulsating in his ears. 

"Y-You like me?" Stammered Riza, averting her gaze from him to the flowers in an attempt to stop herself from becoming too flustered. 

"A lot," he responded simply, slipping his hands into his pockets. 

It took a while for his words to register with Riza. Why would he like her? How could he like her? Everybody hated her because of her boyish haircut, and her tendency to outsmart everybody in her class, and for the fact that her father was the estranged madman of the town. 

"I was wondering if we could go out together at some point," Roy suggested, biting back the urge to run away and hide for an eternity. 

"...Like a date?"

"Only if you want it to be."

Riza brushed her finger along one of the rose petals; it was heavenly soft and naturally beautiful. 

She grinned. "Of course. Only if I can choose where we go."

Quickly, Roy nodded. "Oh, absolutely. Anywhere you want."

"A picnic," Riza answered after some deep thought. "Under the stars..."


	11. Under the Stars- part II

"Our first date is a picnic in a meadow under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel?"

Riza couldn't help but laugh. "Perhaps. But I thought it would be really nice and relaxing."

"Master Hawkeye doesn't know about this, does he?" Roy asked, swinging the picnic basket to distract himself from the nasty thoughts of his Master punishing him for going against his wishes. 

"He has a strict sleeping regime in which he goes to bed at ten and doesn't wake up until six," Riza answered reassuringly. "There's no possible way of him knowing."

"Good, because he'd have my head on a spike otherwise."

She laughed again, her smile widening, which made Roy feel more at ease. "Oh, Mr Mustang, you do exaggerate sometimes."

"But it's the truth!"

"No, Father would just make you study for twenty-four hours straight."

"Then he might as well stick my severed head on a spike. It would equally as painful."

The streets of East City during the midnight hour were pleasantly comfortable to stroll about in. The warm night air brushed against their skin as they passed under the lights of the street lamps, across the deserted streets, and into a large field were hundreds of trees were scattered. It was like one of the paintings that Master Hawkeye had hung in the hallways of the Manor. 

The sky was dark blue, like the ink that Roy used to copy up research notes and to write down alchemical equations. It was splattered with constellations of stars that twinkled to the music of the night- the breeze that was calm and cool and the owls that hooted in the distance. Everything was so tranquil. So at peace. 

As Riza walked a few paces ahead of him, Roy couldn't help but greatly admire: her floral white dress hung from her lithe figure, her skin appeared to glow in the moonlight, and that smile that painted her lips was brighter than any star in the sky. 

"I think here's just perfect, don't you?" She asked him, stopping several metres away from a towering oak tree that belittled them both. 

Roy nodded in agreement, setting down the picnic basket down into the soft grass before sitting himself with a heavy sigh. He was tired. But he didn't care. Because he was with Riza Hawkeye in this dream of its own. 

"We should do this more often," Riza commented, plonking herself down besides Roy and crossing her legs. 

"What? Going on a date with me, or having a midnight picnic?" He questioned with a smirk. 

"Well, I was going to say the latter, but now that you mention it, I'll have to go with both."

Riza pulled out two juice cartons and an apple for the pair of them. She insisted on bringing healthy snacks, but she was yet to notice the chocolate that Roy had slipped in to the basket. They deserved a treat once in a while, didn't they? 

Roy uttered his thanks when he received the apple and drink. Somehow, all the excitement of doing something wildly new had taken away his appetite. Instead, he found himself gazing intently at Riza while she munched on the fruit. 

Maybe this _was_ a dream. A picnic under the stars with the most beautiful girl he'd ever come across just seemed too impossible. In a short space of time, Riza had lost her stoicalness (perhaps it was the flowers that she'd been given over the past few weeks). She was more of a carefree teenage rather than a young girl who had taken on the role of an adult, having to endure everything thrown her way. She was fragile. But she was strong. 

"Mr Mustang, why are you staring at me?"

Roy hadn't realised that she was returning his gaze with inquisitive eyes. Riza glared at him expectantly, her head tilted slightly. 

"Erm... Sorry, I just-"

"Is there something on my face?" She questioned, reaching up and wiping the corner of her lips with a finger. 

He averted his gaze away from her, staring off towards the luminous lights of the city. Why did he have to stare for so long? Dammit, why was he so careless?

"Mr Mustang, please," she pleaded anxiously. "If there's anything there-"

"No, no! It's not what's on your face. It _is_ your face."

There was a long pause. 

Perplexed, Riza's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"You're very pretty," Roy mumbled, purposely so she wouldn't hear. 

"I didn't quite catch that."

"I said you're very pretty," he repeated in a louder voice, stunning Riza momentarily. "And I've liked you ever since we first met. You were always so quiet and reclusive, but now it's changed. _You've_ changed. And I can barely hold a conversation with you without turning bright red and missing what you say because I'm too busy staring at you."

Riza blinked. Her... Pretty? Was it sleep deprivation that made Roy speak so out-of-place? Or was it simply words of truth that had been bottled up for a very long time and that could only be spoken away from the old walls of the Manor and away from the ears of Berthold Hawkeye?

Roy dared not to say anything else. He took a bite of his apple to tear away the awkwardness, but it made him feel even more so. 

"You're... In love... With me?" Inquired Riza quietly. 

Roy nodded slowly. "Yes, Riza Hawkeye, I am very much in love with you."

The sleek black-haired boy that had first appeared on the doorstep of her house was completely different from the young man she was sat next to now. His hair was still the same (not surprisingly), yet his eyes had narrowed out to emphasise his growth from being a naïve child that asked far too many questions. His slightly chubby face was now more chiselled, his cheekbones prominent. And his intelligence had soared with countless hours of ruthless studying. Never ever did Riza think that such a handsome boy that was way out of her league would fall head-over-heels for her. 

Maybe she noticed these things because she, too, was in love. Maybe she hadn't realised it all quite yet. Or maybe she had. 

"And, Roy Mustang, I am very much in love with you too," she said with a faint smile. One of both nervousness and boldness.

His breath caught in his throat. "Wait, what-?!"

Impulses took over. They demanded to be heard. Riza leaned over, initiating a gentle kiss. 

Roy's breath hitched again in shock. This couldn't be happening. Oh, but it was. 

He fell backwards into the grass, the apple rolling out of his hand, and taking Riza with him. Pulling away, she giggled, feeling the emerald grass tickle the palms of her hands. She then brought one hand up to Roy's forehead where she brushed away the hair that fallen in his face. He grinned back, a glint of pure joy in his coal-black eyes. 

"Thank you," he whispered, stammering a tiny bit. 

"For the kiss?" 

"For everything. Thank you for being you."

Roy's lips met Riza's for another tender kiss. A shared spark ignited deep inside of them; a spark they never knew existed until now. For a prolonged period, the thoughts of the picnic they had brought had escaped their minds, along with the interests in everything else that existed around them. 

For once, reality was better than dreams...


	12. Down Comes the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The early hours of the morning aren't always the best times for a special proposal. However, this was just a one-off...
> 
> • • • 
> 
> Post-Promised Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky Fleetwood Mac inspired title because I just live for Fleetwood Mac <3

The streets were silent. 

The air was clear. 

Nothing but tranquility. 

The bedsheets rustled like crisp autumn leaves as Riza shuffled in her sleep. She breathed lightly, but with a quiet snore. Her golden hair fell over her face and her arm dangled over the edge of the bed. 

Roy couldn't help but smile. She was so peaceful when she slept, so gorgeous. He glanced at the tattoo on her back that stuck out from under the sheets. Ghostly scars merged with the vibrant red of the ink; it was a mess, yet it had become part of Riza's unique beauty. It had taken her a long time to accept the damage and move forward, but since doing so, it was as if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had been more herself, more cheerful since then. 

His eyes traced the outline of her shoulders, the slight curve of her breast, and the dip of her stomach. He hoped that this wasn't a dream, even though he knew full well that this was real. Riza Hawkeye was sound asleep in his bed, lying next to him as he admired her. Nothing could be better-

"Why are you still awake, Roy?" Came a whisper in the dark that surprised him. 

"How did you know?" He asked in return, his lip tugging upwards.

"It's the way you breathe," answered Riza, proceeding to yawn without even bothering to suppress it. After all these years together, it was still funny how she managed to remember all these little things. It made Roy fall in love with her that little bit more. 

"You're forever observant; it never fails to astound me."

"I like to keep you on your toes. It gives you something to do when you're procrastinating paperwork."

Roy gave a low chuckle. He enjoyed Riza's humorous side, even if it was dry. He wished she could be like this at work too, but knew she had a certain demeanour and a reputation to maintain in the office and in the field. Both of which she was proud of. 

He also had a certain act that he had to stick to. He was the grumpy, yet feared and well-respected General, who the other superior officers were jealous of due to the fact that Roy had climbed the ranks of the military in barely any time at all. It made him laugh, though, and only spurred him on to do even better and to (hopefully) one day earn the title of Führer. 

"You also never cease to amuse me," he added, pressing a gentle kiss to her jawline. 

When he pulled away, Riza turned over to face him- her face inches from his- tugging the sheets up to just below the body of her sternum. She pursed her lips together and gave a soft smile. 

"Why don't you amuse me by going to sleep?" She suggested, half-jokingly. "You'll be tetchy as anything in the morning and I don't think Führer Grumman will be too pleased if his best General turned up to work tired."

"It's either sleeping or spending more time with you," Roy said slyly. "And I think I know which one I prefer."

Riza felt the heat from his slow, steady breaths and thought that she had no chance of winning against him this early in the morning. She commended his persistence by planting a kiss on his lips before snuggling into the crook of his neck. 

"Happy now?" She asked. 

"Very."

Roy sensed her smiling against his bare skin. Riza was a mystery all in herself, but one that he'd have a pleasant time figuring out. It was true, though, that he'd rather watch her sleep pressed up against his body than sleep peacefully all night amongst practically anything else. 

He wrapped his arm around her, stoking the ends of her silky hair with his fingers. Never in a million years did Roy think that he'd be lying in bed in the early hours of the morning next to the woman who he had eternal love for. He wasn't even worried about fraternisation laws or getting slated by the other Generals for his current actions because he knew Führer Grumman would be happy that Roy was one step closer to marrying his granddaughter; which is what the two men had truly wanted. 

Riza let out a tired sigh, yet proceeded to pepper tiny kisses along Roy's neck where she had her face snuggled into. Delighted, he shivered. 

"I thought you were more interested in sleeping," he said with a smirk. 

"I'm a flexible and adaptable person," she replied nonchalantly, in between kisses. "You lead, I follow, remember?" 

"I remember. And I'll never forget."

Riza stopped abruptly, and Roy wondered what he had done wrong. 

"I was afraid of this, you know," she muttered, snaking her arm around Roy's chest. "Of us."

Concerned, he asked: "Why? What was there to be worried about?" 

"Because it's a dangerous world and there are so many thing that can jeopardise us from being together."

"Like?"

"Obviously the fraternisation laws," came the straight answer. "And then there's the scrutiny of the higher-ups, and the fact that you're one step away from being the Führer and you're sleeping with a low-rank subordinate. It'll sound like idle gossip to some, and the unsurprising, disgusting truth to others."

"Let them say what they want. I'd give up the opportunity to be Führer if it meant spending the rest of my life with you was the other option."

Riza didn't reply. She believed he was foolish to speak like that, especially after he worked so hard to get where he was now and after the near-death experiences they'd both had in the process. 

Roy grabbed Riza's hand, grasping it between his own and planting a gentle kiss on the back of it. 

"Or," he continued. "I could be greedy and have both because with being Führer and having you by my side, Riza, means that I'm powerful in more ways than one."

She beamed at his comment. "You'd be a fantastic Führer, you know. 

"Thank you, and you'd be a fantastic First Lady."

"You say such silly things when you're sleep deprived, you know that?"

"I'm being serious," Roy insisted, curling his fingers around Riza's hand, wanting to hold on for eternity. "We've already come so far together and I would be honoured if you came further with me."

"You know I wouldn't spend my time doing anything else," she answered, lifting her head up and gazing into Roy's dark eyes that stared back inquisitively and lovingly. "When that day comes, I'll be right be right behind you."

"Good," he said, then Riza watched as a tiny smirk crept into his face. "Although I'd prefer it if you were by my side rather than behind me."

"Are you sure? I don't want to take up too much of your spotlight."

"You'd be just as much in the spotlight as I would be."

There was a pause. Riza had no clue where he was going with this except for the fact that he was seeking a bright future that may be imminent. Maybe even closer than either of them realised. 

"So, perhaps now might be relevant to ask."

"Ask what, exactly?" She raised an eyebrow in questioning. 

"When the day does come," Roy began, continuing to look deep into her eyes, but occasionally shifting his gaze to Riza's anxiously pursed lips. "Will you marry me and be my First Lady?"

Her heart skipped a beat. After all these years... After all these years, the pair of them were about to get what they always dreamt of. Only if Riza uttered the word 'yes', of course.

However, the words 'marry me' rang in her ears. Every date that Roy had mentioned about going on sparked a pang of jealousy writhing her, even though Riza knew he would always come back to her. He chose her. He had chosen her ever since they were teenagers and there was nothing on the Earth that could change his mind. 

"Riza?"

Roy's soft voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She suddenly went cold, shivers tingled all over her naked body. But all the warmth and security she ever needed was lying right beside her. 

_The queen needed her king just as much as a king needed his queen._

"Of course," Riza responded with a definite nod and a bright smile. " _Of course_ I'll marry you..."


	13. Fire and Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "... But both were moulded in fire and fury."

The strength of a hurricane,  
The embodiment of a majestic lion,  
His way is of fire and fury. 

But playing God only makes him a sinner,  
And a sinner must pay for his deeds.  
He must pay dearly. 

The truth demands to be heard.  
His power is ripped from him,  
The bright vision of the future is turned to darkness and dust. 

The light... She spurs him forward.  
She's faded, but never ceases to radiate.  
His redemption is in fire and fury. 

Everything that was once treasured is now stolen.  
Everything is lost.  
They must fight to restore justice.

Their hands intertwine like roots,  
Appearances and words go deeper than what they let on.  
Their love is constructed of fire and fury. 

Her necklace of crimson,  
His eyes of granite,  
They've seen through the great war's end. 

One war was enough for a lifetime,  
The second was hell.  
Then again, she'd always follow him there. 

Light and dark cannot exist without one another.  
But they cannot be together.  
Their separation is cut by fire and fury. 

Peace prevails,  
Yet all that's left is a bloody mess  
And the smell of charcoal and antiseptic. 

Why couldn't things be like they used to?  
When they didn't have to constantly hide their feelings,  
When they were young and carefree. 

He was the king, the leader.  
She was the queen, the soldier.  
But both were moulded in fire and fury.


	14. If Love Was a Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If love was a crime, charge me guilty...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is kind of like 'Scandelous', but it's 1:30am and I just couldn't help write sneaky Royai kisses.

Crimes are supposed to be committed in broad daylight. That way it's easier to be caught and punished. This wasn't murder, nor was it theft. It was the due breaking of the anti-fraternisation law that's so damn trivial that it could be considered medieval. 

It was twelve o'clock. Lunch. Everybody had left. Except Roy and Riza; the Colonel and his Lieutenant. 

She was beside the bookshelf, dusting and rearranging all the old leather-bounds so they themselves looked like soldiers waiting in line. 

He rose from his desk, abandoning his work, and advanced in her direction. He first admired the collection of novels and manuals that had amassed, but quickly turned his attention to Riza. 

Roy crept up behind her, yet she was too busy in what she was doing to notice, until he wrapped his arms around her waist. 

"Sir, what are you doing?" She questioned, startled, and putting the books that she had in her hands down onto the empty desk next to her. 

"Nobody's here but you and me. I thought I'd make the most of it," he replied suavely, burying his face into her neck, peppering kisses along it. 

“If we get caught I’m blaming you," she commented, a slight playfulness in her tone of voice. 

"Sure. I don't mind being publicly guilty."

"Well, I mind, and I'd prefer it if nobody knew."

"Hmm. I suppose you're right," he said, gazing up and giving in with a shrug. "But I think there's no need to worry about anybody else right now. It's just you, the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and me-"

"A hopeless, yet determined romantic," Riza added, turning to face him. 

Roy gave a low chuckle. "Exactly. And don't forget that I always will be."

"I know, and that's one of the many reasons why I love you." 

She then proceeded to gently grab the collar of his jacket, pulling him in for a mischievous kiss. It was deep, passionate, and didn't last as long as Roy would have liked. 

He frowned when Riza moved away, but she only laughed, saying: "If you do your paperwork, sir, and help me with these books, I think I've got much more to offer than that."

"You're such a tease, Lieutenant," Roy smiled. 

This crime wouldn't bring punishment if it was concealed from prying eyes. In fact, he was sure it would only bring reward- he'd gladly get the stack of paperwork and book-stacking out of the way if it meant that his lips would meet with Riza's again. 

That moment would come with great, addictive anticipation...


	15. The Only Words He Heard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I never loved you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Angst. Angst. Angst. Angst. 
> 
> This one followed the last, an early morning drabble. 
> 
> A nice bit of angsty Royai to fall asleep to.

They were the only words he heard. 

"I never loved you."

Of course, they were followed by things such as: "how could I? You're a monster. A killer. Nobody could love a monster like you."

It was like a knife to the abdomen, piercing metal puncturing frail skin and the twisting of the blade that felt the strangest. 

It was the dizziness that followed, the shallow breathing, the wave of darkness that swept over your conscience. 

It was the bullet that hammered through your body, wracking bones and organs. It was the wound that was left in memory of the pain. Eternal pain. 

"I never loved you."

Her words couldn't be true. Surely this was just some nightmare. A bad dream that led to clenched fists of anger, tears of frustration, a stomach full of alcohol, and a brain fried on intoxicating chemicals. 

Her words burdened him for days to follow. The early few leading to an empty office at work, and empty glass bottles that scattered his apartment. 

He loved her. And that was that. The courageous young girl he'd grown up with, studied with, fought in battle with. The young girl whose golden hair had been cut far too short to be deemed fashionable, but just right to be sensible. Absolutely perfect to be beautiful. And those eyes that were like a raging fire of determination, a burning amber of passion. Oh, how he adored gazing into them and searching for the answers to his prayers, his dreams. 

But it was those little things that made him crumble like stone. That made him fall and plummet and disappear. 

He thought it would last forever. He thought wrong. 

Because of the only words he heard. 

"I never loved you."


	16. Blaze Like Meteors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Blind eyes could blaze like meteors..."  
> \- Dylan Thomas, 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Young!Royai (in fluff format!!) again because it has to be my favourite AU, and it's a shame we didn't get much canon Young!Royai. Arakawa, I will hunt you down. 
> 
>  
> 
> This started off as a short fic that sparked from a prompt ("oh my god, you're in love with him!") but had to add in the stuff about meteors because 1.) meteors are so pretty 2.) the poem by Dylan Thomas (as partly quoted in the summary) has been on my mind for days because I just love it so much 3.) 'blind' was an unintentional reference to Roy's toll that was paid in canon FMA (oops, sorry!)
> 
> Anyways, enjoy some young Royai fluff!

Riza was extremely reluctant to attend Heymans Breda's party that Saturday, and after some bribery from her best friend Rebecca, she decided that it wasn't everyday that she'd get to let her hair down and have fun. 

"What do you think of this dress?" Rebecca had asked, holding up a red dress in front of her while stood before her bedroom mirror. "Or this one?" She shifted the red dress to one of a dark purple hue. 

"I don't know," said Riza, folding her arms. "Apart from the colour, they look the same."

Rebecca sighed exasperatedly. "That's really helpful, you know."

"Okay, fine. The red one looks the best."

She smiled widely. "Brilliant. Thanks!"

Rebecca rushed off to the bathroom to get changed, leaving Riza sat comfortably on the bed. She was already in her party getup: a knee-length sapphire-blue dress with a high back and a pair of small heeled shoes that were of a darker shade of blue, almost black (and ones she was actually able to walk in). Her short blonde hair was clipped back on one side with silver pins and her fringe was left loose. A thin chain- that was once her mother's- hung around her neck, and Riza kept fiddling with it out of habit, although she never noticed that she was doing so.

Rebecca took longer than they both had anticipated. She came out of the bathroom looking both flustered and very beautiful. 

"How do I look?" She questioned, putting the second silver earring in. 

"Amazing," smiled Riza. 

Rebecca looked visibly relieved. "Good."

"And I'm sure Jean will love it even more," she added coyly. 

Rebecca's eyes turned wide. "Me and Jean aren't a thing."

"Sure, that's what they all say," Riza replied in a singsong voice and laughing when she saw a flush of colour run into Rebecca's cheeks. 

The latter cleared her throat, clearly avoiding the matter and making sure it didn't escalate. "Let's just go already. We'll be late."

• • • • • • • • • •

Despite Rebecca's protest, she was rather pleased when Jean Havoc himself commented on how beautiful she looked. 

Riza rolled her eyes, smirking knowingly. She had a glass of fruit punch in her hand, sipping at it every so often. Although alcoholic, it tasted fantastic, and she made sure she did sip because she didn't want to be too tipsy. 

The party's atmosphere was incredible. There were so many people dancing and drinking and chatting. Breda had done the rounds, speaking individually to each guest to see if they were enjoying themselves. After his pep talk, Riza felt more at ease with being trapped in a wild atmosphere. But her nerves kicked in when she spotted Roy Mustang anger the living room with several of his friends. They were all chortling loudly, but it was barely heard since the music had took over. 

Riza was quite astounded when she saw him since her father was strict on the rules of how to spend free time away from studying flame alchemy. However, she wasn't astounded at the fact that neither Roy nor her father had mentioned that the former would be attending. Maybe it was a surprise. Maybe it was a coincidence. Most likely the latter. 

Regardless of his tousled and messy mop of black hair, Roy was extremely handsome. Since the day he arrived at Hawkeye Manor, Riza had noticed his mental and physical growth. She had to admit that his dark eyes and charming personality were what stood out to her. And no doubt to others. 

Jean had been stood with Riza and Rebecca the moment they arrived at the party, but it was only when he noticed Roy and his friends that he decided to bid the girls farewell for now. 

Rebecca took a gulp of her punch. She took the opportunity in Jean's absence to ask her friend a question. One that she knew would stop her in her tracks. 

"What about you and Mustang, then?"

The question did, in fact, take Riza by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd be dating by now, seeing as though you live together and-"

"He's my father's apprentice, Rebecca," she replied. "And my father made it very clear that I shouldn't distract him from his studies."

"But that's just tedious," frowned Rebecca. "Don't you two just have any form of casual conversation?"

Come to think of it, they didn't. Riza thought hard and came to the conclusion that she and Roy must have had a 'casual conversation' only the once or twice and it being quite abrupt. Anyway, he didn't want to mixing with her. She was so boring and so much like her father it was becoming annoying and ugly. 

"Unlikely," Riza answered simply, taking several sips of her drink. 

"But you like him don't you?" 

"He's a nice lad with great knowledge and manners."

"No, I mean... You 'like' him."

"No, no, no, you're taking this the wrong way-"

In that moment, Riza stopped. She felt her cheeks heating up and there would be no doubt that they were bright red. She felt her muscles tense and her heart beat faster. 

She glanced over at Roy, who was talking animatedly with Jean and another boy called Maes, while the other few were nowhere to be seen. They'd obviously be searching for drinks and food to consume before it all went. Riza almost wanted to smile at the sight of him looking so happy and full of life, yet had to restrain herself because Rebecca was watching. 

Speaking of who, Rebecca was right. And Riza didn't want to confess that. She... Did like him. This was bad. This was good. This was confusing. 

"Oh my God! You're in love with him, aren't you?!" Rebecca squealed, a blindingly bright smile spreading onto her lips. 

"Don't tell the whole world!" Riza yelled back, her cheeks still full of evident colour. "Don't tell anybody!" 

The smile still remained. "Can I at least tell Jean?"

"That'll just add fuel to the fire, Rebecca," she scowled, earning a pout of disappointment from her friend. However, it soon faded and Rebecca smiled again. "Does Roy know you like him?"

"No... I don't think," Riza replied, her cheeks burning up again with embarrassment. Why wouldn't this feeling go away?

"Does he like you?"

"Rebecca," she began firmly. "I don't know. Ask him yourself if you're so bothered."

The answer to Rebecca's question was 'yes'. Roy did indeed like Riza, and he had watched her from afar that later evening in between conversations with Jean, Maes, Breda, and Gracia. 

She behaved so much differently when she was around her friends. Riza was more relaxed and smiled most of the time, unlike when she was at home with her father's presence looming over her. She also did look pretty damn gorgeous in that dress too. 

"Hey, Roy. You seem a bit vacant. Are you all right?" Jean asked. 

Roy broke away from his thoughts to see his four friends staring at him. He raise a hand dismissively, saying: "I'm fine. Sorry. I just blanked out for a moment."

Maes laughed. "So, you'll come with us on next Saturday to the festival?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Maes laughed, patting his friend on the back. "Great! But don't be miserable like you usually are."

"Hey, come on. That's not true," defended Roy. Jean, Breda and Gracia laughed along before immersing in conversation again. 

Roy then bid them all a temporary goodbye as he went to the kitchen to get another drink. It was much quieter in there, and he could finally breath. Quickly, he drunk another glass of lemonade (deciding that one glass of alcohol would suffice, otherwise he'd wake up in the morning with a headache, and Master Hawkeye wouldn't be too pleased about that) and made his way back through the crowd. 

Passing a large group of boys, he caught a glimpse of Riza, who was stood alone beside the mantelpiece. She looked quite content, despite being lonely and having nobody to talk to; Rebecca must have disappeared. Just the sight of her made Roy's heart skip a beat. He pushed his way brought the crowd, and approached her with a confident demeanour. 

"Hello, Miss Hawkeye," he greeted with a soft smile. 

"Hello Mr Mustang," she replied, returning the smile, somewhat nervously. The formalities still continued even though they weren't at the Manor. It was just a habit. And old habits die hard. 

"I'm quite shocked that Master Hawkeye let you come," he added. "You know what he's like."

"Hmm. And likewise. You didn't even tell me you were coming."

"D-Did I not?"

Riza shook her head. 

"Sorry about that. I probably should have have mentioned it."

"Don't apologise, Mr Mustang. You don't need to confirm anything with me."

Roy smiled faintly, observing the anxiety that was swimming in her amber eyes. She tapped her glass of punch with her finger, fidgeting as a distraction. 

"So... Erm..." Riza began with a stutter. "Can I help you?"

"I just thought that you looked lonely over here," Roy pointed out.

"Yeah, Rebecca's ditched me to go and find Jean. They're probably making out somewhere."

She pulled a face of mock disgust and Roy laughed. 

After a moment, he went quiet. He watched as Riza finished off her drink and placed the empty glass carefully on the mantelpiece. She brushed down he dress and gazed off into the crowd of people. 

Her words on Jean and Rebecca have Roy the urge to pull her into a kiss, something he wanted to do for a good while. Now he was having a mental debate. Would it be weird if he did it? Would she kiss him back?

"Hey," he said, grabbing Riza's attention. "There's something I've got to show you."

Riza furrowed her brow in confusion, but asked no questions. She followed him out of the living room and into the garden. It was peaceful and the only sounds came from the low thumping of the beat of the music and the hooting of an owl in the distance. There was a cool breeze, but at least it was dry and warm; it ruffled their hair as they stepped onto the grass. The leaves on the trees rustled and whispered in the breeze, the melody of nature at night. 

"What is it that you wanted to show me?" Riza questioned eventually when they stopped in the middle of the lawn. 

"Look up," Roy instructed, inclining his head. 

She turned her gaze skywards and gasped. The inky-black sky was painted with stars and rained with a meteor shower. It was like something from a dream- the meteors blazed across the black canvas, splattering it with trails of white. 

"This is one of the only meteor showers this year," Roy commented. "And I don't think this was what Breda intended for when he planned his party for tonight."

Riza smiled, still watching the trails zoom into the yonder. "It's beautiful."

"Just like you," he thought. 

Except he didn't think it. He said it. Out loud. And only realised when it was too late. 

Does he like you?

Rebecca's question echoed in Riza's mind. What Roy had just said was all she needed for a decent answer. She looked down at her feet, pursing her lips together and trying to ignore her pounding heartbeat. All of a sudden she became shy. 

"Oh, God. I want supposed to say that out loud," Roy fretted, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Riza insisted, turning back to him. "I, erm... Thank you."

He wanted to reply, but couldn't find any suitable words to mash together into a believable sentence. So instead, he reacted upon impulse- after all, this may be his only chance- and placed a deep, yet chaste kiss on her lips. When Roy pulled away, Riza was taken aback and was pretty sure she stopped breathing at some point. 

"I shouldn't have done that either," he uttered, a pang of guilt sparking inside him. 

"Stop apologising," she insisted, a smile tugging on the corner of her mouth. She savoured the first kiss and then leaned in for another one. 

"You don't understand how long I've waited for that, and how happy you've made me," Roy whispered into her ear moments later. 

Riza hummed in acknowledgement. "That's good. And I don't know why I was ever nervous in the first place. Although, I think Rebecca is going to have a field day when she finds out that I've just kissed you- of all people- twice."

Roy chuckled. "Well, let's not worry about her now."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling into the crook of her neck, while Riza snaked her arms around his neck and rested her chin upon his shoulder in order to gaze up at the stars that continued to fall from the heavens...


	17. I'll Be Good- part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Be the hero that you always dreamed of being."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by one of my favourite songs- I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young, who's been one of my favourite artists for a good few years <3

_I thought I saw the devil, this morning  
Looking in the mirror _

Slow music crackled from the gramophone that sat in the corner of the living room and had been doing so for about an hour. Two half-empty glasses of red wine stood orderly beside it; they hadn't been touched since the music began and wouldn't be again until it ended. 

The cool night breeze flooded in through the open balcony doors, making the curtains sweep upwards with its fluidity. The noises of the city were dampened by the music and mixed in with the melodies. 

As they danced, her hand found its way through his soft, slick onyx-coloured hair, pushing it away from his eyes. They stared back into her own, an undetectable emotion flashing in their darkness. Her amber eyes blinked, her cheeks felt warm, and her heart thumped against her fragile rib age. He never dared to look at her this way when they were in a crowd; only when they were alone was it a reoccurring action. And every time it made her light up like embers of his flames.

"You know, General," she began with a soft smile. "You should have your hair like this more often."

"You think?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Hmmm."

He smiled in the same way as she had done. "I think you might be right, Captain."

"It'll be better for when we go out to Ishval next week."

He swallowed. And swallowed hard. He blamed it on the alcohol and the nerves. But it was the guilt flooding back. Even after all these years. 

"It's next week, huh?" Was all he managed to say. 

_I never meant to start a fire,_  
I never meant to make you bleed,  
I'll be a better man today 

"Yeah," she replied, smoothing down his hair one last time before her hand found his again. Her other hand had rested gently upon his shoulder, while his was firmly on her waist. He didn't want to let go of this moment; he didn't want to let go of her. 

"Is there something the matter, sir?" She finished, tilting her head ever-so slightly out of curiosity and concern. 

Oh, how he wished they wouldn't be so formal. This evening was so incredibly intimate it felt like a dream, and a wonderful dream at that. It wasn't so suitable to be referring to each other by their ranks: they weren't on duty and neither was it necessary. 

But old habits die hard. 

"Do you think we'll make a difference out there?" He questioned eventually and somewhat sceptically. 

"Of course," she replied definitely. "I see... You're having doubts."

"I guess so. I don't feel as though it's right for me to help rebuild Ishval."

"Why?"

"Because of how many I killed in the Civil War. Because I incinerated thousands. And I'd bet that some of their remains still lie lonely in the sands today. I hate myself. I'm a monster."

"Don't say that. They were your orders. All of our orders-"

"And yet I still did it."

"You had no choice-"

"I did."

"But you would have been sent back home, or killed yourself," she said darkly, just enough to have an impact. "Doesn't that matter to you? Returning with your own life intact?"

"Evidently," he responded. "However, I don't think the Ishvalans would accept my help."

"General, you were the one to suggest rebuilding the region in the first place. Nobody else would have thought of it. Those people are indebted to you as much as you are to them, particularly after their assistance on the Promised Day."

There was no denying it. She was right. 

Goddamn it. She was always right. 

His eyebrows furrowed, his gaze lowered, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. 

_I've been cold, I've been merciless_  
But the blood on my hands scares me to death  
Maybe I'm waking up today 

"I just want to make things right again," he uttered quietly, his hair falling slightly back into place. It shadowed his eyes and the blackness about them. 

"Then make them right," she encouraged, using his shoulder as a pillow. Her hair tickled his neck, yet he found comfort in its silky warmth. "Be the hero that you always dreamed of being."

He cracked a smile, burying his face into her own shoulder, breathing in the sweet, hypnotic scent of that same perfume she had worn for years. 

Their hands parted. They found their way around one another's torsos, pulling them together for a close embrace. 

"I will be," he mumbled. "I promise you, Captain, I'll follow the path of redemption and I'll be a better man when it's over."

Her fingers clutched the material of his shirt, balling it up into her hand. "I know." 

"And you'll be with me, right?"

"Every step of the way."

_I'll be good, I'll be good  
And I'll love the world, like I should... _


End file.
